Just one more
by MissGinerva
Summary: After closing a case, Cormoran Strike and Robin Ellacott are having kebabs and a few Doom Bars back at the office. It's late and they decide to have just one more beer because one more couldn't hurt... right? *smut*


...

It was late, around midnight, Cormoran Strike hadn't looked at his watch in a while. He and Robin had finally pinned down a perp they had been chasing for months earlier that evening, another low life cheating husband who turned out to also be a tax evader. The case had got interesting quickly and Robin had slipped into one of her flawless characters as she snuck into his work and gathered information on him. She had done it well and within a day they had gotten him. The police had just finished carting him off a few hours earlier. Strike and Robin were still riding the high off the job while eating Mediterranian carryout at the coffee table in his office. The Kebabs and chips were mostly eaten strewn across the table in front of them.

Robin sat back on the sofa laughing, taking a chug from her Doom Bar beer. It was Strike's favorite so he had had a few bottles in the fridge, but she winced at the bitterness as she swallowed. She preferred white wine.

"You can take off that thing now," Strike said, pointing at her head, chewing.

"Oh," Robin said, her free hand going to the sleek cropped dark brown wig she was wearing. Slowly pulling it off, she shook out her strawberry blonde waves. They cascaded around her face and she could feel Strike's eyes on her. Watching her. She took another sip of her beer, feeling nervous under his gaze.

"I forgot I was wearing it," she said, feeling her chest flush.

"You did good," Strike said, leaning into the table, his arms resting on his knees, holding his Doom Bar bottle between his hands, "as always."

"Always the first to flatter," Robin smirked.

"You know I wouldn't say it if I didn't think it," Strike said, his gaze firm on her.

"It is one of the things I like most about you," Robin said in a mock-serious face, "your honesty."

"Come off it, Robin," Strike said with a smirk looking around the office, "I thought it was my tidiness."

"Could use some work there..." Robin smiled into the lip of her beer bottle. Her rosy lips pursed on the edge of it in a pout

Strike watched her. He always watched her, even when she didn't notice. But he felt she had been getting better at noticing lately... her detective skills were always getting sharper and he had started to notice her staring back if his gaze lingered too long. He had gone out of his way to not linger lately. He was her partner... it was dangerous territory.

"Another?" Strike said as he heaved himself up, his right knee smarting at the pain of his weight. He really shouldn't have had those chips tonight... or this second beer he was about to have... but it was a celebration and he was selfishly enjoying Robin's company so much. He didn't want the night to end just yet.

"Mhmm," Robin said, putting down her empty bottle. One more couldn't hurt... right?

Robin watched Strike shift uncomfortably on his prosthetic leg as he opened the mini fridge and got her a second beer. He had been standing so much lately with his last case and walking... she had done everything she could to get him to rest his leg, but he was a stubborn bastard and rarely took her advice. She took the beer from his outstretched hand with a "thanks" as he sat down with a grunt.

"Will Nick and Ilsa need you back anytime soon?" Strike asked, popping the cap on his fresh Doom Bar and taking a swig.

"They know I stay out late with you." Robin swallowed the chug of her beer, gesturing a wave at the office, "thank you again, for setting that up."

Strike nodded, grabbing a chip before popping it in his mouth. They sat in silence a moment, both drinking. Strike was already a beer ahead of her as he sipped his third beer and he felt happy at her company. There was not often an excuse to stay with her after hours and while he knew he was playing with fire... he enjoyed it too much.

"I sometimes worry I am imposing..." Robin said.

"With Nick and Ilsa?" Strike shook his head, "never."

"Will you tell me if it gets to the point? I think I should probably start looking for flats soon."

Strike shook his head, on the meager sum he paid her and the high rents in London... she wouldn't be able to find anything that he wanted her to live in. At this point, with two attempts on her life directly caused by the work she did for him, all he wanted was for her to be safe at night. At Nick and Ilsa's she was safe.

"Don't even think of it, Robin. I don't pay you enough to put you somewhere safe. Just take this for a while."

"I think I could find somewhere suitable-"

"Robin please," Strike cut her off, his brow furrowing, "I just want you to be safe."

"Strike I know how to protect myself." Robin countered, a firm tone in her voice.

"I know but that's not what-"

"I am a perfectly capable woman, Strike!" Robin said sternly.

"I cannot risk losing you!" Strike practically yelled.

His gruff voice seemed to fill every corner of the room as his chest heaved. He was breathing hard.

"You'd have to live here with me, above this damn office," Strike huffed a laugh, "because that is the only place you could afford because I can't afford to pay you more."

"Well, I would live with you if it meant I wasn't driving Nick and Ilsa mad!"

"How could you drive anyone mad, Robin?" Strike said, a pain in his voice.

"I drove off Matthew didn't I?" Robin's voice broke. She shouldn't have had two beers on a full day of an empty stomach and late night Kebab. She wasn't drunk but she felt the effects well enough. Her honesty was starting to get the better of her.

"You left him," Strike said.

Robin waved her hand, "yeah but before that. He stepped out on me before that."

"Well, Matthew is a stupid prat who didn't know how good he had it. No man in his right mind would leave you." Strike said it with such force it caused Robin to sit back in the couch.

Robin was shocked. She sucked in a breath. The strike never criticized Matthew. He had remained hushed on everything, only to help her when she asked for it... she hadn't suspected he had such a strong opinion.

"Shouldn't have said that," Strike said gruffly, running his large hands through his hair. "Fuck."

"I liked it," Robin said, she felt her chest flush.

Strike laughed, he slowly brought his brown eyes up to meet her blue ones and hers were lit with a fire he could not totally understand. He spared a slow glance down her flushed cheeks and neck to her chest which he could tell was heated through the gap in her white button-up shirt. His eyes darted to hers and he realized they had lingered at her cleavage.

_Fuck_, he thought. What a moron! _Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

Robin smiled as she watched Strike flush from her catching him looking at her chest. He always made a point to _not_ linger on her. She had noticed that lately. Maybe she thought he didn't know she caught the glances and little looks he gave her, but she did. She had for a long time. Long before she had left Matthew. When he had put her up in that fancy hotel and gotten her a place to live... Robin had wondered but dared not think about what it had meant.

However, Strike had not yet dared be so brazen as to catch her staring at her cleavage before and Robin had to admit, she liked it.

"I see your glances sometimes," Robin said, her honesty fuelled by drink.

Strike stared at her and she could tell he was nervous. He was trying to hide it but, she knew his tells by now. The air felt heavy with tension as Strike and her locked eyes. Robin felt her heart racing in her chest.

"And?" Strike said quietly as he swallowed, a muscle in his jaw flinching.

"And I think maybe you don't catch mine..." Robin trailed off, unsure of how to continue this.

Strike was dumbfounded as he stared at this beautiful woman in front of him, her face flushed, her rosy lips twisted into a little wicked smile, and her beautiful strawberry blonde hair framing her face. She didn't know it, or she would have fixed it by now, but her mascara had smudged on one of her eyes and Strike thought it made her look like a lovely tousled mess in her wrinkled button-up white shirt, which was coming untucked from her camel colored pencil skirt. She had filled out since she and Matthew had broken up and her clothes fit much more tightly than they had before. He preferred her with the extra weight... the extra volume to her ample curves...

"I am an ugly old bastard, I know I am not missing any looks."

"You say you are ugly and yet..." Robin pursed her rosy lips and tapped them with her beer bottle, "your exes have been gorgeous. So clearly you do something right."

Strike laughed at her boldness, "I assure you it isn't because of my rugged good looks."

"Something else then?" Robin said quietly, shrugging with a sly smile as she took another swig from her beer. For her it was the honesty, and sure he was handsome but his integrity and raw power were something to behold. They were magnetic.

Strike didn't move as he watched her, knowing full well where she had just steered that conversation and knowing she knew exactly what she was doing. Yet he didn't dare stop her.

"All out," she said, pouting.

At the same time, she and Strike stood up.

"Me too," Strike said softly as he reached across for her bottle, without breaking eye contact.

He took the beer bottle out of her hand, brushing his rough fingers against her soft ones and she let out a soft little gasp and he stilled, his hand atop hers. They stared into each other's eyes, both standing on either side of the coffee table littered with kebab carryout.

Robin let go of the beer bottle as it clanged to the ground as she reached forward and grabbed Strike's face in her hands, pulling him as she kissed him fully. His eyes were wide with shock as he dropped the bottle he was holding and reached out to pull her into him as he kissed her back. He couldn't grab enough of her with the damned table between them. Strike stepped over the table and picked her up, bracing his hands under her firm thighs as he lifted her up kissing her. With their lips locked and her legs straddling him (as best they could in the tight pencil skirt), he carried her to her table, setting her on the edge of it.

As she kissed him, she settled onto the table adjusting herself and pulling up her skirt so she could pull him in closer with her legs. He tasted like cigarettes and beer and smelled like Castille soap and musk. She sighed into his lips. She had wanted this for so long, the burning pushed away due to Matthew, guilt, and the fact that he was her partner... and had been her boss. Somewhere, she knew she had wanted this far longer than she had admitted to herself.

Strike's hands were in Robin's hair, on her back, her hips, her waist. He grabbed her as if he would never get the opportunity again. He knew he shouldn't be doing this. Without a doubt she was the best detective he had ever worked with, he was her partner, he was... totally and completely smitten with her and with Matthew no longer an obstacle it had been so much harder to hold him back. One month ago he brushed her hand while they walked and he had to physically resist grabbing it and holding it. Two weeks ago he had almost told her how beautiful she looked when she came into work. His restraint had been slipping for some time and all he wanted was to feel her and _be_ with her in every conceivable meaning of that word.

They broke apart to breathe, Robin's face was flushed and her lips almost bruised. Strike's heart was racing as he braced himself on the table, one hand on her hip.

"We shouldn't a done this," Strike huffed out.

"Maybe," Robin said, kissing him again.

"Robin what are we-" Strike got out between kisses.

She kissed his jaw down his neck in a swift little line of pecks before she bit his shoulder gently.

"Ah fuck," Strike grumbled, "Robin-"

"I am trying to, Cormoran," Robin said softly. The flutter in her voice shot through him like an arrow and he was done for.

He pulled her off the desk into his arms, his hands going to the front of her white button-up, hastily. The buttons were so small and his fingers so indelicate. He got the first few undone and she untucked the shirt from her skirt with a swift movement, as she tossed it over her head.

Strike blinked, all thoughts eddying out of his brain as he looked down at Robin in just her bra and a skirt.

The first day on the job as a temp secretary, he had grabbed Robin by the breast after he had almost knocked her down the stairs. It was accidental of course, but that didn't mean he hadn't thought about that day sometimes when alone at night. In front of him now he saw he hadn't fabricated the feeling of her. Her large breasts were barely contained by her tan bra and as she breathed heavily, he watched them swell.

"I know where this going, Strike, and I want it." Robin said confidently, "I have wanted it for a long time now and I am sick of pretending like I don't see you for the handsome man you are."

"This is going to change everything..." Strike got out, looking Robin in her clear blue eyes. Her face was set with determination.

"This," Robin gestured to the air between them, "already has."

"Fuck," Strike ran a hand through his hair. His heart was beating so fast. He stood at a crossroads and he knew where he wanted to go, but he knew also... what he probably should do. But should he do it? He couldn't think clearly as his eyes raked over Robin, in front of him, completely ready to take the plunge.

Robin stood up and walked over to him, unbuttoning his blue shirt slowly as she stared at his chest. She ran a hand through his chest hair and up to his neck, pulling him down to her as he kissed her again. This time, though, he kissed her with such need that her knees shook as he grabbed her, pulling her closer to him. His hands went down to the top of her skirt as he slowly unzipped it, pushing it gently over her hips and letting it fall to the ground. Robin kicked the skirt aside and made quick work of his belt, pulling his shirt out and kissing his chest. Strike kicked off his shoes and took a step back, unzipping his pants, before tossing them aside with a swift movement.

They stared at each other a moment before Strike closed the gap and picked her up with ease she didn't know he had, pushing all of her papers off of her desk and laying her on her back. He leaned over her and kissed down her neck to her cleavage as his hands roamed over her breasts. He massaged them with his large hands, marveling at the fact that he couldn't even fit the whole of it in one hand. He had never particularly cared about breasts (he considered himself a fan of a whole woman, not just the breasts), but as he unhooked her tan bra and cast it aside, he couldn't stop himself from marveling that Robin's were incredible.

Robin flushed under his gaze. He had only ever been with Matthew and this was so much more nervewracking than she had cared to admit... but she wanted him so badly it was like there was fire coursing through her veins. This new and confident Robin had taken over and she did not simply want Strike, she needed him. Robin could feel that he needed her too.

Strike's eyes burned brightly as he looked at her and took her in. He kissed her breasts again, working his way up to the nipple with soft tender kisses until he took it in his mouth and sucked. His rough hands pinched her other while he ground himself into her sensitive area. He gently bit her nipple and she gasped as he then moved to her other breast. While he administered attentions there, his hands roamed down to her lacy tan underwear and he slowly slipped it down her legs and off.

"Jesus," Strike grumbled as he looked at her, all of her. She was brilliant, witty, so smart, cunning, gorgeous, and she wanted him.

Robin propped herself up on her elbows as she eyed his dusty green plaid boxers. She bit her lip and looked him in the eye.

Strike smirked at her as he slowly stripped them off, without breaking eye contact.

When he was stark naked in front of her, he watched her blush. He was big... much bigger than Matthew and much bigger than she had anticipated. Strike felt him watching her and couldn't hide the delight he felt in it. She sat up, her strawberry blonde hair falling over her breasts as she pulled him in by his waist and kissed him again. Strike eased her back down so he was standing over her as she lay on the desk, his hands resting on her softly padded hip bones.

"I want to make sure," He said, "that I have your consent..."

His voice trailed off as he looked her in the eye.

"Yes," she breathed, "dear Gods yes."

Strike smirked as he kissed her deeply, his fingers slipping between her legs, past the blonde hair nestled there, finding their way to her most sensitive spot as he stroked it gently with his scarred fingers before plunging one finger into her, rubbing her with his thumb.

Robin gasped and bucked her hips and he moved his fingers faster while his head went down and she felt his teeth graze her breast. She came fast and hard. She had always been an easy off, but this must have been a record. Trying to catch her breath, she noticed Strike smile.

"You're beautiful, Robin."

Robin smiled, her whole body felt on fire, "I think you are the sexiest man alive, Strike."

"Come off it," Strike said, kissing her stomach.

"Truly," she laughed.

Strike kissed her again, deeply. And as she wound her fingers through his hair, she felt him at her entrance.

"Fuck me," She murmured into his mouth and it was all the telling he needed. He grabbed his pants off the floor, pulling a rubber out of the wallet. He sheathed it on in one swift movement as Robin watched, her legs shaking with anticipation, her body flushed with happiness. She got off the desk and walked towards him, pushing herself into him as he lifted her legs and pressed her to the windows, her bum resting on the small window sill as he positioned himself.

She let out a gasp as he entered her. He pulled out and then in again, savoring her warmth. Her hands were gripping the slim window sill as her body radiated in pleasure at his expert movements. She didn't want to think about all the practice he had had... he was old enough that he had clearly perfected his technique as he leaned down to kiss her breasts again. With each plunge, they bounced against him and she moaned.

He drew it out until he couldn't last any longer and he came, gripping her against him. Their bodies wound tightly as they moved to the floor, still together.

As they both caught their breathes and Robin's limbs shook with ecstasy, Strike leaned in to kiss her deeply.

"I was right," Robin said eventually.

"'Bout what?" Strike said, stroking her hair.

"You are doing that _something else _very right..." Robin blushed and covered her face.

"Good to know," Strike smiled at her, the heat between their eyes still radiating.

"So now what?" Robin said, a sudden panic going through her that Strike would do what he tended to do to women... leave, abruptly.

"I dunno," Strike said gruffly, then leaned in so only she could hear his whisper, "but I'm not done doing that for a long time."

"Same."

"Would you like to..." Strike trailed off before looking at the ceiling, "spend the night? The place isn't... clean. It's..."

"I'd love to," Robin said, kissing Strike, pressing her body fully to his.

As they made their way into his upstairs flat, the partners knew that everything had changed. Yet that thought wasn't spared too much worry because they didn't get much sleep that night, eventually watching the sunrise from Strike's bed, tangled in each other's arms.

...

**XX**


End file.
